Thoughts from a Church Pew
by Dobbysocks5678
Summary: "A large family files down the isle and into the pew to the right of me. I only recognize the man. The Baker. He's only just opened up shop in the village. He and his family moved here from another kingdom. There's a lot of mystery surrounding them, and their situation." Post-Giant. Kind of a character study of the cast and their family. (A little Bakerella sprinkled in as well.)


A large family files down the isle and into the pew to the right of me. I only recognize the man. The Baker. He's only just opened up shop in the village. He and his family moved here from another kingdom. There's a lot of mystery surrounding them, and their situation. I can hear whispers following their entrance.

"Odd, isn't it? To move to an entirely new kingdom?"

"A family with so many children! Better be a fine Baker to earn enough living to feed all of those mouths."

"Who in their right mind brings a newborn child to church?"

I sigh, and try to focus on the page of reading in my hand, but I find my gaze continually moving to the right, gazing at the little family.

They take half a pew up all on their own. The man sits at one end of the family, his wife on the other. He's a relatively short man. He has slightly sunken cheekbones and dark, curly hair. His eyes are large, and from what I can tell, a deep grey-green. He has a slightly hooked nose, which gives his face some distinctive character. He's dressed rather plainly; just some light colored trousers, a white blouse and a patchy, worn looking Sunday jacket. He's fiddling nervously with his fingers, occasionally glancing down the row at his family, but all in all, he doesn't seem to be very interesting.

Beside the man, sits a young man with ginger hair and a slightly bothered expression. The boy looks to be about ten and five, and seems to be in bad temper. His hair is very light, which is strange, considering his dark haired parents. His hair is parted on the side, and combed very carefully. If I had to guess, I would say the careful part was the work of his mother. No boy would care enough to groom himself so carefully. The boy is dressed very similarly to his father. One might call the style "modest", but most would call it "boring". He's slouching in his seat, staring deliberately at his sister beside him with a mutinous expression etched on his pale and freckled face.

The pretty little girl beside the boy, looks to be about ten and three. She also has light hair. I'm assuming it's a family trait from deeper lineage. Her hair is very carefully curled into ringlets, which fall perfectly past her shoulders. The very front pieces of hair around her pretty face are pulled to the back and tied with a blue ribbon. She's wearing a blue dress with a lovely lace collar. The dress is slightly faded, and a little worn, but seems to be in good repair regardless. She sits very straight, her little hands folded in her lap. She's quite obviously ignoring the boy's angry looks, which seems to be making him even angrier. I take note of her sweet little mouth formed into a purse, and the wrinkle of her small nose. I wonder what started the argument in the first place.

Beside the girl sits a little boy. He has curly dark hair like his father, and a chubby toddler face. He can be no older than three, I'm certain. He's dressed very modestly, but sweetly, in a little green romper and a hat. He's clinging to his mother's arm, nestling his head into the crook of her elbow. He keeps glancing nervously around, trying to grasp his sister's hand. I can clearly tell that the boy is nervous by nature, as his father seems to be. The small child is beginning to make whining sounds, and the girl tries to soothe him, but the whimpering gets louder. The cries are only silenced when the mother bends down to his ear, whispering something for a short time, then stroking his chubby face with the back of her hand. The child stops whining, but the nervous shifting continues for a short time afterwards.

The mother is the person of the group who interests me the most. Despite her extremely petite stature, she sits tall, and with such strikingly proper posture that one might mistake her for a noblewoman. She's certainly beautiful, with her pale skin and dark hair. Her lips are small, but full. Like a little rosebud beneath her nose. Her eyes are light, and quite as striking as her husband's. Her dark hair falls clear to her waist in soft waves. The front is pulled away from her face and twisted carefully in the back. Her grey dress is not in quite as good repair as the little girl's, and lacks much personality, though I suppose that with looks as good as her's you wouldn't worry too much about wardrobe choices. She wears a knit shawl the color of fresh cream around her narrow shoulders, and a serene smile on her face. In her arms is cradled a seemingly newborn baby.

The child is wrapped tightly in a blanket, and I can't tell if it is a boy or a girl. The baby is sleeping soundly, and I catch the mother gazing down at the child adoringly throughout the entire sermon. The same way the mother is admiring her baby; the Baker seems to be admiring his wife. His eyes have been fixed, not on the priest, but down the row at his pretty wife who is admiring their pretty baby. It seems apparent that he is in awe of her ethereal beauty. I find myself confused at how he, such a small, plain and nervous man, managed such a pretty bride. Perhaps he has a hidden family fortune? Is he a royal in disguise? After a long while, she looks up, catching his eye. A slight flush appears on both of their faces, but she gives him a knowing smile and he winks back at her.

"Interesting," I think. "Refreshing. To see a married couple, four children later who still make each other blush like newlyweds."

I feel ashamed at my assumptions of the Baker and his wife's relationship and resign myself to listening to the rest of the sermon.

When the last hymn is sung, and the family rises to make their leave, I stand quickly, offering my hand to the man. I clear my throat as I shake his hand. "Baker? Am I correct? You just opened up shop in the village?"

The small man gives me a slight smile and shakes my hand. "Yes, sir," he says. His voice is a nice sort of voice. It has a musical quality to it. "The name is Chip. These are my children; Jack," he gestures to the ginger headed boy, who is still glaring at his sister, "Lyda Rose," he nods to the girl, "Peter," he glances at the little boy clinging to Jack's leg, "And the baby is James."

I feel myself smile at this man's obvious pride. He truly seems to love his family. "And this is-?" I look at the pretty woman who is cradling the baby.

"Oh," the man stutters, his smile not leaving his face. "My wife. Ella." The woman blushes, and curtsies as best she can with the child in her arms.

"Well. You have a lovely family," I say with a smile. "I'll have to visit your shop sometime soon."

The Baker smiles. "We'll keep an eye out for you," he chirps. They step away, and I notice he and his wife link little fingers, walking out of the church with identical, serene smiles.

The family begins to file out of the church, and I hear the boy Jack as he hoists the little boy onto his shoulders. "Lyda, that was _my _sticky bun you snatched. Father! Ugh! It isn't fair!"

**Author's note:**

**I have always imagined that after the giant, they formed a sort of family. This idea has been teasing me for a few days, so I'm glad to get it out of my head and onto the page. It's basically just a character study. The kind of thing you might do when beginning a novel to get a grasp of your characters… But I think at least a few people might find it interesting to read my detailed descriptions of these characters;)**

**I've never written for Into The Woods before, so I hope I captured the essence of these characters I love so much. I'm playing with the idea of giving this little family their own story… But I'm not sure. Thanks for reading. Please follow and REVIEW! That makes this little author extremely happy! XOXO.**


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